


I can't keep my eyes of off you

by thoughtfullyyoungduck



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: But he doesn't know how, Happy Ending, I hope you like it!, In a funny way, M/M, Richie wants to propose to Eddie, a proposal fic, but nothing too much, so he enlists the help of Stan, somehow among us is also part of this fic, there's a few explicit jokes, this was written for a secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtfullyyoungduck/pseuds/thoughtfullyyoungduck
Summary: So, instead of doing something sensible, like opening his mouth and asking for aid, Richie decides to ignore the where and the how for the time being. You can’t have a wedding without a ring, is his reasoning behind this, and so the first stop on his; propose to Eddie Kaspbrak and make that man his for the rest of his life- list, is a jeweler store.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, as best friends - Relationship, mentioned Myra Kaspbrak (briefly)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41
Collections: Writers Revolution Secret Santa 2020





	I can't keep my eyes of off you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liilaac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liilaac/gifts).



> this fic was written as part of a secret santa. Lily I hope you like it!

It starts like this; with Richie sitting on Stan's old leather sofa, the same one he very specifically forbids anyone from sitting in. The chair is antique, with flakes on the armchair surface that can easily be picked apart further and uncover the material of which it’s built off, and a but indent that makes whoever is occupying it sink at least two inches deeper than the manufacturer intended. Under normal circumstances, Richie is to be ten feet away from the thing at all times -with good reason, Eddie agrees- but today he cried victory over Stan in a contest of what he likes to call: ‘bird hide and seek’, and for his victory price, he chose this. Not that he’s that interested in the old thing, but he’s curious to know why Stan is so protective over it, and wants to test it out himself.

Stan is sitting on the edge of his own sofa, opposite of Richie with only a wooden table in between, with his left leg crossing the right and his piercing gaze trained on Richie like a hawk. With even the slightest movement Stan’s mouth opens, ready to scold him off if Richie dares to touch his precious chair in any shape or form that might damage it.

The fireplace is lit up and it warms the room significantly, and with the temperature difference from outside where the snow is falling, blizzard style, Richie’s glass has yet to defog. He’s close enough to the smoldering heat that he needs to scoot away from it sometimes, to stop it from actually burning him. He considered shoving the chair just a tiny bit closer and taunting Stan with the idea of it bursting into flames before his very eyes, but Richie is only poking fun at Stan, he’s not actively seeking to be murdered.

‘Relax Stanial, it’s just a stupid chair’, he laughs, tapping it with the flat of his palm a few times as one would tap a knee from a distant friend you’ve given advice too. The vein in Stan’s neck nearly pops.

‘It is not a chair, it is a recliner and it was my great-grandfathers. Do not break it.’

‘How the hell do I break a chair?’ Richie asks as he wobbles back and forth, the seat crackling under his weight and the ministrations.

Stan grits his teeth. ‘You could find a way. You always do somehow.’

‘Oh Stanley, I’m flattered you think that highly of me, but I do have to admit that my heart has already been captured by someone else.’ He enhances his theatrics by whipping away an imaginary tear with one hand and holding his heart with his other one.

‘That is ironic,’ Stan admits, ‘considering the seat your but is in right now is the place I proposed to Patty too.’

‘This old fucking thing?’

Stan grits his teeth. ‘I told you that old thing is a family heirloom. And yes. We went out to dinner, then came back home and watched a romantic comedy, and I couldn’t restrain myself from waiting anymore.’

Richie lips twitch up, ‘Was the movie you watched the notebook or something?’

‘Do you not always cry when endless love is on TV?’ Stan counters, smirking at Richie’s undignified look. ‘Do not look so surprised, drunk Eddie does not know how to keep any secrets.’

Stan is, undoubtedly so, right, and out of fear of what else Eddie might have spilled after a glass of martini too much, probably at Bev and Ben’s fancy boat party not two months ago, Richie simply shrugs and leaves it at that. For a second, until the smell of fresh baked cookies invades his space and forces his mouth to water, he’s left wondering how the hell Stan got such a wonderful woman to marry him with such a mundane proposal.

‘Patty honey,’ he yells out, loud enough that Patty can hear him. She sticks her head around the corner of the kitchen, still mostly busy with decorating the cookies but giving Richie part of her attention. She hums to let him know to continue. Both Stan and Richie had offered to help her more than once, but she insisted that this was the only thing she was good at cooking wise, and that they had to leave her in her element while they went and hung out in their living room.

‘I’m gonna propose to you, and I’m going to do it a thousand times more romantic than Stan did.’ He childishly sticks out his tongue towards Stan who seems unbothered. Apparently, the mere mention of his proposal has softened him up, as he’s not commenting on Richie’s behavior anymore.

Patty steps into the room with a glass of water and sits down next to Stan, cuddling up to his side like a freshly married couple who can’t stop touching each other. It’s magnetizing to see the love and affection they still have despite being married for so long. Richie hopes him and Eddie will be the same in a few years’ time, but he can’t imagine they won’t. Not after missing each other for so long.

‘Thank you Richie. That’s very sweet and I’m sure you would make it very romantic’, she grins at him,’ but I actually adored Stan’s proposal.’ She stretches up Stan’s way - he’s slightly taller than her- and gives him a quick kiss. ’It was nice and simple and it just felt right.’

She grin brightly then, and addresses Richie directly again. ‘And besides, I wouldn’t want to snatch you away from Eddie.’ Stan rolls his eyes, endeared by the characteristic Patty has picked up from his best friend. ‘Speaking of which, when are you planning to pop the question?’

‘I- don’t…’ The question comes unexpected, like thunder during a clear night, and Richie is momentarily stunned. The truth be told, he’d never actively contemplated marriage before. Not before Eddie, but not after either. He’d always assumed that Eddie and him would loiter around together forever, well after they’d start to get wrinkly and grizzled, with their only purpose in life being to keep each other happy. So in a way, he had considered marriage, but he had never put the word to his ideas before.

A whole new array of possibilities opened right in front of him, and a vivid image of him and Eddie sliding rings on the others finger in front of the losers appeared to him like a gift from the heavens. Richie pictured a buffet from all the continents food - excluding Chinese - colors schemes that he was fairly certain would look terrible if they were to be executed in real life, and could even hear the faint sounds of their opening dance.

Patty planted the seed of possibility in his head, and now it’s not going to go away any time soon. He must have had a dreamy look on his face, which he snaps out of when Stanley exhales a heavy, but fond sigh.

‘I can help you if you want?’ He offers, smirking a little bit at the irony. Richie’s skin prickles, embarrassed that he got caught fantasizing over something so vulnerable. It’s just Stan and Patty though, his best friend and an honorary loser, but even that isn’t enough to settle Richie completely.

The adoration he harvests towards Eddie is exposed, unprotected to vicious attacks coming out of the blue. Richie still has not come to terms with the fact that the people he spends all his time with, the losers, his found family, relishes in his vulnerability, not because they want to break him, but because they love him and want him to let go of his problems and release them onto them.

Richie has been working hard on fixing his mindset, but hey, baby steps. He jokes it off, but he files the offer away to use later, which is more than he could have done a few months prior. He owns the losers, in particular Eddie and Stan, a lot more then he gives them credit for.

Patty chuckles, helplessly endeared by her husband’s best friend and their teeth grinding interactions. Still, she was certain that if either of them called the other for help with anything, they would be there in the blink of an eye. 

‘You? Help me? After proposing in this old thing? Thanks for the offer Stan the bird man, but I think I’ve got it covered.’

\-------

He does not have it covered. Richie is not a planner, he simply flows along with the events of his life and prays that his hardships will sort itself out, and lucky for him, they usually do. Marrying Eddie is not a hardship, but the amount of stress and anxiety that go hand in hand with it definitely is.

Richie never once dared to entertain the idea that he might get married on day, not even as a little boy. While his mother gushed about her friend’s wedding dress and how beautiful the bird had looked, all Richie could do was wonder why he thought her husband was the stunner of the day, and not the wife. 

Later, the answer became obvious. It was because he’s gay, and Eddie Kaspbrak ignited all of it. After he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t interested in women, at all, he’d always assumed he would end up dying old and alone, labeled as disgusting by everyone that passed him in life and so much as spared him a glance.

Marriage between two men was unheard in the 80’s, so Richie never let himself believe he would ever take part in a wedding. Only once did he dare to utter the words marriage and himself in the same sentence, and it was when he was twelve and tried to appeal Eddie to play along with him for an extended jab. Eddie, so filled with self-hatred and obliviousness to his best friends' own internal struggles, had revolted at the mere idea. Richie never dared to dream again.

The problem now is, Richie has no inclination in what a perfect proposal contents. In contrast to Ben, who has been planning his wedding since his mom informed him what weddings are, Richie’s never thought of the perfect romantic place, romantic gesture, or romantic speech to give in such a significant moment. He could ask Ben about it, but he would tell Bev, and Bev would tell Bill and soon everyone in the losers club would know about his impending proposal and that could only lead to disaster. It wouldn’t be the first time a secret of his saw the light of day sooner than it was supposed to. 

So, instead of doing something sensible, like opening his mouth and asking for aid, Richie decides to ignore the where and the how for the time being. You can’t have a wedding without a ring, is his reasoning behind this, and so the first stop on his; propose to Eddie Kaspbrak and make that man his for the rest of his life- list, is a jeweler store.

Richie sneaks out of the house undetected - not that Eddie would stop him from going anywhere, but he would ask questions and Richie cannot lie about important things to Eddie – during Eddie’s weekly fitness session. It gives Richie a window of three hours exact, because Eddie is one of those freaks who can run for longer than a minute apparently.

The nerves are written all over Richie’s face that day, and it only becomes more obvious towards the time when Eddie is packing up to go. Richie berates himself, it’s only a shopping trip, he’s not about to ask Eddie to marry him that day, but he still can’t overcome the lack of cool-headedness.

He waits for five minutes after Eddie walks out the door, counting the seconds out loud, and after he’s done counting, he sprints towards his jacket and keys to get to the store as fast as possible. The drive lasts mere minutes, but Richie’s impatiently ticking his fingers on his steering wheel, honking at someone for the first time in his life when the person takes too long to restart their car after stopping for a red light.

The shop he goes to itself is a quant, old boutique, run by the same family for generations. They design each of the rings from scratch, and to Richie, that means something. A plain ring manufactured in a factory with a dozen of underpaid employees feels empty to him. Eddie won’t even notice, but Richie will, and he’ll rather look at a ring all his life that was expensive but made with love, than a ring that’s cheap but made by people who were forced to do it.

As cold as it is outside, being the middle of January and temperatures have dropped below zero, it’s hot inside. There’s no fireplace, but the furnace is burning at its fullest capacity and it eases part of Richie’s nerves, with the freezing cold banished outside.

His glasses fog up as soon as he opens the door, so he’s spooked when the moment his glasses clear, a middle-aged woman is standing before him with a welcoming smile. The entrance bell still chimes, fading out slowly behind him.

‘Welcome to rings and blings, how can I help you today?’

The shop is decorated with Christmas ornaments, even though the holidays have long since passed, and even a few of the rings are Christmas themed, with red and green dashes of color. Richie would be lying if he says he doesn’t consider buying one of those for Eddie’s proposal, but he is serious about proposing to Eddie, so he shelfs the idea. Maybe in a few years, he can buy Eddie an anniversary ring, and have that one be holiday themed.

He gets lost in it, for a bit. A weird nostalgia creeps up behind him, like he’s not in a store with people he has never seen before, but rather at his grandmother’s house, where he’s about to get an overload of cookies and milk.

‘Sir?’ the woman asks, no less agitated or impatient as she was before. Richie blushes because of his wandering mind, but smiles through his embarrassment. 

‘Hi, I’m looking for a ring.’

‘I would certainly hope so, this is a ring shop after all.’ The smile on the saleswoman is ever so polite, without any mocking tilts hidden.

‘Hey, I’m the comedian here,’ Richie jokes, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t own up to it, why he doesn’t admit that he’s here to buy an engagement ring for his boyfriend. He never has any trouble talking anyone’s ear off in a different situation.

There’s just something so personal, so vulnerable, about admitting to a total stranger that you're about to risqué your dignity and your relationship as it’s built right at that moment in time. 

‘Ah, I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I can’t say I was a fan in your early days, but your last show truly changed my mind. Are you here to buy an attribute for your show?’

‘No, no, nothing like that. Though that is a great idea and I will write it down for later. I was actually wondering if you guys sell engagement rings?’

They do, as hours of online scrolling through their website has informed Richie. They have a whole different rayon of rings that are purely meant to be proposal rings separated from the other jewelry. It’s both a gift, because Richie was unaware that there was a distinct difference between a normal ring and an engagement ring, and a curse, because he can’t pretend to buy the ring for a non romantic reason.

‘We sure do, if you’d be so kind as to follow me.’ She, her name being Sara, Richie thinks to read on her nametag, leads him over to the front of the store. There is an assortment of all kinds of bands, but all of them look to be for female counterparts.

Richie cringes and hopes that the store isn’t somehow homophobic, though that would be surprising considering Sara said she had enjoyed watching his latest special. He had yet to meet someone who liked all his jokes about taking it up the ass and was a gay hater at the same time.

‘Actually,’ he sputters before she delves more into the background of how the rings are manufactured and which pearl stands for what, ‘my, hopefully -let’s not get ahead of ourselves he’s way above my league- , to be fiancée is a man.’

‘Oh, my apologies for assuming. Our wedding rings for men are in the back.’

And that’s the end of It. She doesn’t laugh at him for daring to dream someone will marry him, she doesn’t remind him of all the homophobic things he’s said before going back to Derry, and she doesn’t even give him a look confusion as she now walks towards the back of the store, passing beneath a looming mistletoe to get there.

Richie stops and stares for a moment, imagining him at eleven years old at his family Christmas party. The rule was that he was allowed to bring one friend with him, a bribe to keep him out of his parents' hair, and as expected, that role fell upon Eddie every year.

At his grandmother’s house, where the party was being held, there had also been a mistletoe hanging above the entrance door, and Richie remembers how brittle he had been about the whole thing. He kept trying to make excuses to shove Eddie over there and kiss him under the premise of it being a tradition, but kept chickening out last minute. He never did receive that kiss, and wouldn’t until 28 years later.

Sara sees him gaping and laughs without restraint. ‘I put it there because some people come shopping with their significant other, and I thought it was a lovely idea.’

‘It is, ’ Richie agrees, missing Eddie like a phantom limb, despite having seen him an hour before and seeing him again in two. If Eddie were here, the day would go by with a lot less indecisiveness on Richie’s part, and a lot more witty comebacks, but the whole point of this is to surprise Eddie, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he had picked out his own wedding ring. ‘Could be awkward though if you go ring shopping with your mother in law.’

Sara laughs, nodding in agreement. ‘Well, I will leave you to it then,’ she steps away from the display cabinet, then leans in again to quietly tell him something else. ‘For the record, I think that it’s very sweet how flustered you get about proposing. It might be surprising, but I don’t see that a lot around here, most of the men who come in here try to be very macho about it. What’s his name?’

‘Eddie Spagheddie’, Richie blushes and jabs at the same time, fighting against the smile poking at his cheeks, simply by thinking of the man and the way he would throttle Richie if he could hear his introduction with the nickname. God, Sara was right, he is, as the kids say, whipped. 

‘Eddie’, she repeats nodding. ‘He’s very lucky to have you.’ She shuffles backwards now, giving him the time and space to choose the ring that stands out to him. ‘If you need any help I’ll be over here.’

‘Thank you’, Richie says before he peers down towards the first line of rings he comes across, and gulps. A full, physical reaction to the impossible task he’s going to have choosing between them. It’s less choice then the female section, thankfully, but the different colors and patterns twirl before Richie’s very eyes and make him dizzy with obliviousness.

He can’t quite recall what Eddie’s first wedding ring looked like. Obviously, the two can’t have the same color, both because Eddie wouldn’t be happy with that and because Richie would hate to give him something that reminds him of Myra. He could also buy a metaphorical ring, and keep the receipt so Eddie can return it and pick out the one he rather own, but Richie really wants to get this right. He wants Eddie to be able to show off his ring with pride, and he wants to beam with the knowledge that it’s because of a decision he made. But shit, is it hard to find the perfect one.

He hesitates between a plain, gold or silver band, then switches his mind and nearly chooses one with a diamante embedded in it, then changes his mind again to one where he can write their initials in.

In the end, he narrows it down to a plain one -gold or silver is a totally different debate-, and the one he can embed their names in. A penny sure would come in handy now, to perform a tossup between the two and have fate decide it. Then again, fate has always been a bitch to Richie, and he’s not sure he has a lot of faith in the universe that can harbor such a depraved creature as Pennywise.

‘Fuck this is hard’, he mutters under his breath, taking his hands out of his pockets and digging them in the side of the display cabinet while leaning over and inspecting the rings again. For safety, he should probably call Eddie and confirm his original wedding ring was gold– Richie believes he can vaguely conjure up an imagine of the color reflecting in his eyes and blinding him with an unjustified jealousy during the dinner on his first night back into Derry, but by now he’s viewed so many rings he can’t distinguish the reality from his fantasy- but that would give too much away.

He’s about to say fuck it and ask a random customer, or Sara, for a coin, when his eyes land on a band he had yet to see. It wasn’t hidden by any means, but Richie had skimmed over it on first glance. The band exists of nothing more than a plain surface, tunicated by two separate, fine lines that wove into one near the back of the ring.

Richie instantly savies that it’s the ring. He can’t quite explain it, but he feels it in his gut. When you first perceive it, you’d think the color was silver, but upon further inspection, the silver turns into a light rose pink, which happens to be Eddie’s favorite color. And if it reminds Richie a little bit like two spaghetti strings being tied together, then that is his secret to bear and take to the grave with him. 

\-----

The how and when portion of the question, turns out to be even more demanding than picking out a ring.

\-----

‘Do you think I should iron; ‘will you marry me?’ on a t-shirt?’

‘You do whatever you feel is right Richie.’ 

‘You’re no help at all sedanley, be sure to mention that in your best man speech: left the groom to fend for himself.’

‘I will dedicate a whole part to it if that’s what you wish.’

\-----

‘What if I made a short movie and lured him to the theater via the premise of another movie and asked him there?’

‘You do whatever you feel is right Richie.’

‘Thanks again for shit Urine.’

\----

‘Okay I’ve decided I’m going to use humor as a way to ask him. I’ll wait for him to come home tonight and I’ll be sitting at the front door on one knee and say; hold on are you ready for my amazing speech?’ Richie clears his throat. ‘Eds Spagheds, for too long you’ve come second, but now I’ve finally broken up with your mother and I want you to take her place, marry me?’

‘Do whatever – wait actually no, I am vetoing this idea, do not do this.’

\-----

Richie taps his feet together like a small child that has not gotten what he was after. He’s perched on the edge of his first floor balcony, with his body protected by a railing and his legs dangling under it. His breathing is heavy and without laying eyes on him Stan knows that today is not a good day for him.

‘Look Richie, you have to stop calling me in the middle of the night, it is not healthy anymore.’

‘I just don’t have any good ideas Stan. Nothing is grotesque enough. This is Eddie we’re talking about, he tolerates me every day, he deserves it more than anything in this world.’

‘Richard,’ Stan lowers his voice until it’s octaves away from being a growl, ‘You could ask Eddie to marry you in bed at night without doing anything or even showing a ring, and he would agree to marry you.’

‘You really mean that?’ Richie questions, so uncharacterized timid it’s ridiculous.

‘Absolutely. Except if you mention his dead mom, then he might say no.’

A chuckle and then, as if it has finally sunk in, ’Thanks Stan, I appreciate the help.’

‘Yeah, yeah Tozier, do me one favor and propose to him quickly, I don’t think I can handle another week with you behaving like this.’

\------

Richie and Eddie have their own little routine going on every evening, unbeknownst to anybody else. Their pre-bedtime ritual evenings vary, whether the cause is Eddie working late, Richie having a show, or them preferring to watch a movie over sitting outside on their patio and enjoying the smell of fresh air after being cooped up inside for most of the day, no two days are the same.

There’s no predictability at their home, which suits Richie just fine, but he likes the assurance that no matter how busy their days get, there is always something to look forward to by the end of it.

When they both get tired enough that they’re no longer focusing on their task at hand, they’ll retreat to their bathroom, stumbling across each other to brush their teeth, wash their faces and in Eddie’s case, moisturize the bare skin he can find despite his pajamas blocking most of his body’s surface.

After that, they’ll wiggle until they find a comfortable position in their bed, with Richie’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, and they’ll play exactly two games off among us each night.

When among us was brought on the market, Eddie didn’t dedicate a single moment of his day thinking about it. He especially never considered the possibility that he would be playing two games, every single night in bed beside his boyfriend without fail, secretly hoping he would be the imposter and could witness the total shock on Richie’s face when Eddie killed him first, in every game. He limited their playtime to only two rounds per day, as Eddie was assured they would get addicted if they played more than that.

See, Eddie might not like to admit it, but the stubborn mule is more competitive than any of their friends. It manifested primarily, visibly, as kids under the rouse of spitting their loogies the furthest and Eddie getting prissy for the rest of the day if his didn’t go the furthest, and it showed under the radar, in getting upset that Richie wasn’t focusing on him the most.

Nowadays, if the losers decide on a game night, they’ve learned that they can never, ever pick a luck based game. Eddie will lose it when his dice, according to him by manipulation by others, lands on the side with one eye.

The rest of the losers find it hysterical, to watch Eddie slowly turn red with each passing moment and struggle to contain it, but Eddie’s embarrassed by it afterwards, long past the end of the evening. He’s taken it upon himself to sit out any board game the losers play, Patty does the same and they keep each other company, and root for Richie vehemently.

It ends up being Richie’s idea, one evening, to download the app and indulge in a few rounds. He hadn’t expected Eddie to become so engulfed in the game, but the latter got consumed with the plot and felt absolutely no shame reaming at random strangers if he thought they were acting stupid and were costing them the win.

January twelfth is no exception to their routine. They start the night off with Richie cuddled up on top of Eddie’s arm, lying sideways to face his boyfriend, while Eddie lays on his back and holds his phone above his head. They stay like that for a good ten minutes, about as long as the first game takes, until Eddie, assuming Richie’s cheating by looking at his screen, banishes him to his side of the bed.

Richie laughs hard but accepts it, only pouting for a minute before refocusing on his game. Neither of them are the imposter, which makes it a game without stakes, and Richie ends up being murdered very quickly.

It doesn’t really matter to him that much anyway, with him thrown out of the game, Eddie allows him to peer in over his shoulder, and he gets to observe Eddie’s tongue poking out to wet his lip whenever he thinks he’s about to get murdered. It’s adorable and cute, but Richie doesn’t point it out to him. He knows that if he does Eddie will get conscious of doing it, and will try to stop. He wants to cherish the little quirks Eddie has for the rest of his life. He hopes Eddie will let him.

Like usual, his thought process eventually lands him back to the ring, hidden in the second drawer of his bedside table. He can swear Eddie has some sort of detector for it, because he's been gravitating towards it a suspicious amount of times. Thankfully, he has yet to discover the neat, black box.

There’s not a definitive idea on how he’s going to propose yet, but Richie can tell the moment is getting closer. He’s beginning to be equally as impatient as Stan is about the matter.

‘Fuck, it’s red right? Richie hey’, Eddie jolts his shoulder, subsequently jarring Richie out of his head.

‘Huh what?’ He asks dumbly, retreating back over. He’s assuming the game is almost over and he needs to gear up for the second round. He can’t let Eddie beat him after all.

‘Red is the one that killed you right? You can tell me I already voted. I was right wasn’t I?’

‘Sure’, Richie agrees, though he has long forgotten who the actual culprit was. Eddie seems satisfied with his answer, and he turns back to await the end eagerly. Red is ejected, but he’s not the imposter. 

‘Motherfucker.’ Eddie hurls his phone down on their bed sheets. ‘You asshole, you said it was red.’

‘Oops’, Richie shrugs, knowing that the smirk that’s on his face is only daunting Eddie more. He didn’t mislead Eddie on purpose, but it’s too much of an opportunity to rile him up to pass.

‘Eds, maybe we shouldn’t play another game. I’m pretty sure your blood pressure is high enough already. I can think of another way to keep it elevated though, if you’re interested.’ Richie presses a series of kisses up Eddie’s arm, eyeing the way Eddie fights a shiver.

‘No, restart the game. I’m going to end you.’

Richie laughs, a little too loud for the calm evening, and nods as he just does that. He’d love to see him try.

Richie arrives in the know dropship a split second before Eddie, but it’s enough time to run to the control panel and change his color from yellow to pink, which happens to be Eddie’s go to color.

At first, Eddie mutters under his breath, annoyed that someone got it before him, but when he sees it’s Richie, he frowns over in the bed. With a snide of revenge, Eddie rubs his ice cold feet against Richie’s leg, and holds them there.

‘Oh it’s on’, Richie teases, but he can’t help leaning up for a kiss, which Eddie begrudgingly grants him. He might be good at his poker face, Eddie adores Richie and little trinkets that show him how much.

The game commences, and Richie has to physically restrain himself from whooping out loud. He's the imposter, and he’s going to make sure Eddie is going to suffer. It’s ironic, how the moments that are filled with the most tension are also the ones with the least amount of stress lately. With his mind focused on the game, Richie can’t overthink his proposal any further then he already has.

He starts off by separating himself from Eddie’s character, running off in the other direction. Eddie is a smart and cunning man -and it comes out full force during competitive games- and basically all the tricks Richie has to hide his role as imposter Eddie taught him, so if he wants to have a shot at winning, he’s going to have to be immensely discreet.

Eddie can recognize his tells better than he can of himself, but if Richie can get him just distracted enough, he might not realize.

He kills three crewmates before one of the bodies is even reported, and he assures that he has a good alibi -by pretending he was in electrical the entire time-, and lucky for him, Eddie has zoned in orange, who is acting suspicious according to him.

Richie backs him up, despite feeling a tiny bit guilty for the person playing, but that’s just part of the risk. They eject orange, who obviously isn’t the actual imposter, and the game continues on, with Richie attempting to off as many crewmates as he can.

He deliberately saves Eddie for last, purely for the kick it’ll give him when Eddie stares at him in disbelief when it hits him.

When there are only three people left, Eddie, Richie and a random person they have no knowledge of, Richie turns off the lights and goes to find Eddie? He passes the only other survivor, but he doesn’t stop or even consider killing them. No, his target is most definitely Eddie. 

He locates him in O2, where Eddie is finishing up the last of his tasks. In real life, Richie angles his body towards Eddie, clamps the latter’s feet between his legs, and waits until he notices him. Eddie I swearing a self-satisfying smirk on his face, perhaps thinking about how he hasn’t been killed yet. 

‘Done,’ he announces proudly, narrating the way he often does unconsciously while focused on something. He looks to Richie, maybe to hear his response better, but is met by a shit eating grin of his own.

As he peers down on his screen again, his smirk demolishes, and his eyebrows hitch together. ‘No’, he groans, switching between looking at Richie and at his phone. ‘No’, he yells louder, smashing his head into his pillow.

‘Yes,’ Richie teases, inching closer, both in their bed, and in the game. ‘What was that about you ending me?’

‘Richie, please. Don’t do it. I haven’t won this game in weeks, don’t take this away from me.’

‘Oh but Eds’, Richie exclaims while pouting, ‘are you really asking me to lose then? To give you the victory?’

With grinding teeth, Eddie rejects his claim with sad grouses; ‘asshole.’

A new plan forms in Eddie’s head, as he unclamps his mouth, and turns to face Richie. With one hand, he slides up to hold Richie’s cheek with an open palm, and flashes his dimples -his boyfriends weakness- towards Richie. ‘I love you’, Eddie promises, relishing in how Richie weakens in his hold. Richie knows that he’s being played, knows that his soft spots are being exploited, but he doesn’t care.

The conversation with Stan lingers in his head, his advice on how Eddie wouldn’t care how the proposal was done, as long as it was done. This isn’t anything Richie had in mind when first imagination proposing to Eddie, but it feels right. It feels them, with both love and humor equally as extant in their bubble in their own home.

It’s nothing ethereal like Eddie deserves- as a dinner on the beach, or flash mob in the mall- but Richie can’t come up with a better time to do it then now.

‘Fine Spagheddie,’ he agrees, cupping Eddie’s hand in his own and praying that he didn’t miscalculate the situation. ‘I’ll let you live, if you marry me.’

Eddie blinks, holds in his breath -alongside Richie who is absolutely shitting himself- and then laughs. ‘Wow, low bow dude. All for you to win?’

‘No, Eds, of course not. I’m really asking you to marry me.’

‘Without a ring?’ Eddie stutters in disbelief. He sits up in bed, his phone tumbling down the sheets, ultimately forgotten? His eyes widen, and stare at Richie like he grew two heads overnight, but he hasn’t rejected Richie yet, which he counts as a win.

‘I have a ring’, Richie confirms, also scrambling up out of bed, and searching through the second drawer. His hands are shaking terribly, so he can’t unclasp the box right out of the gate, but it doesn’t bother Eddie, who laughs breathlessly, while his eyes turn wet around the edges.

‘You do?’ He asks, climbing closer to Richie.

Richie doesn’t bother trying to get on the bed anymore, instead he sinks to his knees In front of Eddie, decidedly ignoring the crack his joint produces at the movement.

‘Eds,’

‘Don’t start with that, for the love of god.’

‘Eds’, Richie grins anyway, the little black box shaking in his hands. ‘I love how much you pretend to hate my nicknames even though I would bet money on it you don’t. I love how you’re always willing to stick up for our friends even if you’re scared, especially if you’re scared. I just love all of you,’ an immense feeling of emotion washes over Richie, who clears his throat and blinks hard against his tears. ‘I love you slightly less than your mom though.’

Eddie kicks his legs, but laughs breathlessly nonetheless. He’s so overcome with fondness for the man before him that he can’t even pretend to be peeved about it.

‘Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m sorry that this isn’t elegant, or as fancy as it could have been, but if you’ll have me anyway, will you marry me?

‘Fucking yes,’ Eddie assures, flying forward and crashing against Richie, rings forgotten on the side. It doesn’t matter, not when Eddie is delicately feeling up his mouth and kissing him like it’s the very first time. Eddie grabs him by the neck, tilting his head until they’re at the perfect angle to make out, lost in their own perfect bubble.

‘Jesus Eds, I haven’t even given you the ring yet,’ Richie laughs as he tries to pull back slightly, only to be dragged back in by Eddie’s hands. He doesn’t request a kiss this time, but opts for bumping their noses side by side, simply breathing in the same air as his now fiancé does, and watches him -still with watering eyes-.

‘I love you so much’, he entrusts Richie, finally releasing him so Richie can slide the ring on his finger.

Richie does so immediately, promptly bursting out in tears when he sees how perfect the ring fits around Eddie’s finger.

Eddie shushes him, guiding his head in his neck, and brushing kissing against his hairline. They remain in that position for a while, and Eddie continues to inspect every inch of the ring -out of sight of Richie of course, the fucker can’t know how well he did or it’ll go to his head-, and finds that it’s a much better choice than he could have sought out.

‘I can’t believe you proposed to me during a game off among us.’

‘It wasn’t planned!’

‘It better not have been. If that was the way you arbitrated to propose to me I’ll marry and divorce you on the same fucking day.’

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! follow me on tumblr under the same name: thoughtfullyyoungduck


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